


Abigail Fell’s Master Plan That Most Definitely Will Get Her Dads Together and Won’t Cause Any Chaos at All

by lesbiannoodlesoup



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Blind Date, Episode AU: s02e13 Mizumono, Fake Marriage, Fluff, M/M, Mild OoC, Murder Family, Road Trips, Romantic Comedy, Sharing a Bed, Trapped In A Closet, Tropes, because cannibal fluff is hardly feasible in this universe, they do still eat people on the dl tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbiannoodlesoup/pseuds/lesbiannoodlesoup
Summary: After the Murder Family settles into their new life in Florence, Will and Hannibal are still dancing around each other and their feelings. Sick of dealing with their nonsense, Abigail creates a plan, determined to finally get them together, but some things are easier said than done.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 121





	1. Fake Marriages Often Yield Unexpected Results

According to the most affluent socialites of Florence, the Fells were one of the most charming families in the city. Dr. Hans Fell was an extremely respected psychiatry professor at the local university, happily married to Mr. William Fell, a writer working on a book that never seemed to be published. They had a daughter together, the teenage Abigail. Abigail was well-liked at school, both for her bubbly personality and her propensity for quickly making friends. They were the picture of domesticity, even if they were never seen together. Anyone who was acquainted with Dr. Fell had most likely only heard of William through stories and jokes about the professor’s home life. On the rare occasion they were spotted side by side, it was on a quick walk through the city or a university function at which Mr. Fell could most likely be spotted at the open bar or the buffet table, whiskey in hand. But of course, no one ever mentioned their strange absences from one another’s lives, as that would be rude.

It was at home that they could be themselves, no longer the Fells, but individuals who oftentimes wanted nothing to do with each other, Will and Hannibal specifically. Despite living in the same apartment (it was more of a penthouse than an apartment), they were creative in their ways of ignoring each other. They slept in separate beds, slept at different times of day, worked in different places, and one was almost always out “running errands” that most likely did not need to be run at all. Abigail was tired of it.

After leaving Baltimore, Abigail expected her adoptive fathers to finally address whatever was going on between them (it was obvious that something was). Between the stolen glances and the blunt embarrassment from both parties, some form of mutual attraction was evident. But in true Will and Hannibal fashion, they said almost nothing to each other, leaving between them a stretch of sexual tension thick enough to cut with one of Hannibal’s kitchen knives. Even after moving into their new lives and pseudonyms as the most perfect family in Italy, the two men kept up an air of seclusion from one another, leaving Abigail to moderate. She felt like a messenger penguin when she was forced to carry dinner requests to Hannibal and party invitations to WIll. After some amount of deliberation, she decided that if they weren’t going to get together themselves, she would have to do it for them. Or at least prompt it. 

To begin her plan, she pulled a piece of thin paper from her desk (no doubt chosen by Hannibal) and started to write a list. After a few minutes, once she was done erasing, crossing out, and reorganizing, there was one scheme that stuck out at the top of the lineup:

_Fake married dinner party?_

Abigail concluded that this was the best way to address her predicament. She would invite Hannibal’s snobby friends for a dinner party with the acclaimed chef Dr. Fell. Anyone who’s anyone in Florence would be thrilled to attend, so she could easily amass a large crowd for the night, each one of them counting on an expensive plate of hors d'oeuvres, crafted by Dr. Fell himself. Once every invitation was sent, she would casually mention the topic to Will and Hannibal and that they would need to be hosts. They would most likely be angry with her, but that was a small price to pay to see them stuck to each other’s side at the party, forced to socialize with the crowd before eventually discovering their affinity for life as a married couple, then boom. They would find love and Abigail would find some peace in her own home.

Once she found a list of Hannibal’s colleagues and a nice pen from Hannibal’s desk, she started to work her magic.

_ Dear esteemed [couple], _

_ It is my pleasure to invite you to my home for a dinner party next Saturday evening, the nineteenth. I plan to serve a plethora of different dishes, all handcrafted by myself. I would be honored if you could find time to attend and enjoy the presence of myself, my husband, and our daughter. _

\- Doctor Hans Fell

It was concise, elegant, and just a little condescending. A perfect replica of something Hannibal could have written. After penning about twenty-five copies, she sent them off to their recipients, packaged in a cream-colored envelope and accented with a wax seal. Just like that, her plan was set into motion.

It was the next morning when she informed Will and Hannibal of their obligation. Safe to say, they were not excited. Will was angry at the promise of socializing, Hannibal with the amount of work to be done, especially with such little time for preparations. Abigail made an excuse by saying that they needed to host a party to solidify their place in the high society of the city. Her argument was flimsy, but neither man tried to refute it, which was a win in her book. They never got together as a group to plan the event, which left Abigail to do most of the heavy lifting with Hannibal. If she was being honest, it was probably best if Will didn’t interfere, given his lack of design sense, evidenced by the embarrassment that was his house in Wolf Trap. Together, she and Hannibal constructed a gourmet menu full of exquisite cuisine (no people were on this menu as of yet, considering Hannibal hadn’t had any time to hunt). 

When there were only a few days left until the party, Abigail found a box containing a flowy cocktail dress at the front door, accompanied by a suit that no doubt was for Will. Damn Hannibal and his perfectionism. After a bit of debating with herself, she elected to deliver the suit herself. She found Will in the study, clacking away on a laptop, doing God-knows-what. After a few soft steps, she set the box on the desk, watching his face for any change.

“It’s from Hannibal,” she stated.

“What is it?” Will asked.

“I suggest you just open it yourself,” Abigail said quickly, turning to leave the room before Will was able to see the contents of the box.

She was not quick enough, evidenced by the outraged voice behind her back. “What the hell? Does he seriously think I can’t dress myself! What a pompous asshole.” Will was, for lack of a better word, pissed. Not at Abigail of course (she wasn’t sure if he had it in him), but at Hannibal. Abigail was fully aware that Hannibal was more focused on aesthetics than anything else, and she could definitely recognize Will’s shortcomings in that regard. With his old flannel shirts and worn-out chinos, he stuck out like a sore thumb among the chandeliers and gold details that decorated the apartment, let alone the well-to-do society of Florence. She could sympathize with Hannibal wanting to make him look a little nicer for the party. With a short apology to Will, she removed herself from the study and retreated to her room to give him some space.

The night of the party arrived sooner than expected and began with Hannibal and Abigail busying themselves in the kitchen, preparing everything from prosciutto rolls to crème brûlée, which was proving more and more difficult for Abigail as the afternoon wore on. At about five pm, they were finally done, and Will offered to clean the kitchen for them, most likely making up for his dreadful lack of culinary skills. They both obliged, and once changed, Abigail found herself swimming in a gold dress that was adorned with beads, ribbon, and tulle. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know how much it cost. Hannibal was making space for guests in the main room, wearing a suit that seemed to exactly match Will’s. Will would not be happy when he saw, that was for sure. Hannibal was also wearing the fake wedding ring he wore to work, and Abigail was curious to see if Will even knew where his was, considering his disdain for anything implicating the idea of a relationship between the two men.

It was after about an hour that the kitchen was clean, and that was when Will stepped out into the main room, dressed in his black suit and a gold tie that was so obnoxious it seemed to overshadow the rest of the outfit. It was obvious to who had picked it out. With a glance to the side, Hannibal had blatant hearts in his eyes, even if the man he was gawking at looked as if he would rather step straight out of his skin. With a clap of her hands and a smile that was not returned, Abigail announced, “The party begins!”

It was then that they started ushering guests inside. Attendees included professors, journalists, and even a few politicians. Just the type of people that needed to be impressed. She eyed the crowd as they milled through the apartment, snacking on bits of food and sipping lavish wines. After opening the door far too many times and flashing far too many toothy smiles, she waded off through the dense crowd to find Will and Hannibal. On her way, she was stopped by an older woman who asked where she could find the restroom. Abigail pointed her in the right direction, just when she was intercepted by a man with a notepad, no doubt covering the event, despite his lack of invitation.

“Miss, can you help me find William Fell? I need to speak to him about his book, it’s of utmost importance,”

Abigail mentally rolled her eyes. “I actually saw him walking over that way,” she said, pointing in a direction that she most definitely did _not_ see him walking. The man quickly turned his head to look before scurrying away to get some kind of photo or interview. Abigail kept moving, standing on her toes to look above the crowd and try to find Will or Hannibal, as they would no doubt be apart. 

After scanning the opulent apartment, she caught a glance of what could only be Will, with the same suit and his signature unkempt mop of curly hair. Pushing through the group, she made her way over to him, only to see him nursing a glass of whiskey, accompanied by several empty glasses of God-knows-what on the counter in front of him. “Oh no,” Abigail whispered to herself, although it must have been loud enough for Will to turn his head to look at her. “Abigail!” he called, ignoring the fact that they were close enough to the point where he didn’t need to yell. “Uhm, Will, hi, may I ask how many drinks you’ve had?” she inquired. “Not that many, don’t worry about it,” Will replied, and Abigail could make out the way his words were slightly slurred above the noise of the crowd. Lovely. 

She attempted to take the glass from his hand, but midway through her effort, he pulled his hand away, spilling most of his drink and toppling a plate of caviar-topped crackers onto the marble flooring. He made a low whistling noise under his breath at the same time Abigail released a tired sigh. She bent down to collect the mess, a string of increasingly rude curses flowing from under her breath. “Cleaning up after you is like cleaning up after a child,” she muttered. “Technically, _you’re_ the child,” Will offered in response, which had Abigail suddenly bristling in anger. She wasn’t quite sure why she blew up, but she did. “Goddamnit Will! I plan one night where you can finally socialize and try to spend some time with your family, and all you do is show up, complain, get drunk, and cause chaos! I doubt you even spent time with your husband!” Will, still fairly nonchalant about the ordeal, quipped, “My _‘husband’_?” (He was very intense with his air quotes.) “Let’s call over my _husband_ shall we?” At this point, he was loud enough to command the room, guests across the floor turning to look at the conversation over their champagne flutes.

“Hey,” Will called across the room. “Hannibal!” Abigail was considering chastising him for using Hannibal’s real name, but at this point, she really couldn’t be bothered. A line of partygoers separated, forming a path leading straight to an unbothered Hannibal. Will stood from his chair and walked over, Abigail hot on the trail behind him. He pointed a finger straight at Hannibal’s chest and asked, “You were having a fine night without me, weren’t you? Talking with all your fancy friends and leaving me to have my peace?” After a beat, Hannibal, calm as ever, responded, “It would have been nice to spend the evening with my dear husband, but you can do as you please,” “Jesus  _ Christ,  _ can you stop with the ‘my husband’ bullshit?” came Will’s slow and slurred speech.

“I’m not sure what you mean, and using such language won’t improve your persuasion skills,”

“You know exactly what I mean, you just don’t want to say anything!”

Hannibal made no move to reply, which seemed to be the final straw for Will, as he landed a push straight to Hannibal’s chest, however weak and impaired by alcohol it may have been. To the entire crowd, Hannibal called with a smile, “I think it is time for my dear William to go to bed, and time for this party to be over. Sorry to send everyone home on such short notice.” Apparently, they didn’t need to be told twice and started to file out the door without Abigail to open it. Will was still gesticulating wildly and talking mostly to himself.

By the time the attendees were gone, Hannibal made to move Will to his room, despite the amount the man was flailing about. Once they were out of sight down the hall, Abigail flopped down onto a couch in the sitting room, a long sigh escaping her lips. She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, eyes closed and arms limp, but it was long enough for Hannibal to come back, with no Will to be seen. “I highly doubt he’ll remember that by morning,” he admitted in an almost-whisper as if there was a sleeping baby in the other room, which Abigail supposed there was. “I sure hope he doesn’t”, she said. “It would be better if he didn’t remember the entire party concept as a whole.”

“You had good intentions,” Hannibal explained. “It wasn’t your fault it ended this way, it was mostly mine if I am to be completely honest.” Abigail doubted this but didn’t ask him to clarify, as she figured it was probably one of his psychiatrist tactics. 

With a long breath through her nose, she got up from her chair, accepted a long hug from Hannibal, and went straight to her bedroom. She was too tired for much of anything and went to bed feeling sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the start of my fic! As mentioned in the summary, updates will be coming soon. I'm sorry if my writing skills are sub-par, as I'm relatively new to writing fiction as a whole. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and constructive criticism is welcome and necessary.


	2. Accidental Lunch Dates Tend to Go Awry

It was only after about two weeks that the news of the party-gone-wrong seemed to blow over. The society pages had stopped writing about Dr. Fell’s husband that can’t control his anger and the gossipy housewives had stopped their incessant whispering in between overpriced cappuccinos at fancy outdoor cafes. People had moved on and university staff had stopped sending Dr. Fell sideways glances in the hall. Abigail no longer lowered her head in school hallways, and Will, well, he still hadn’t found it in him to leave the house.

Just as Hannibal predicted, Will didn’t himself remember the mess he created and the way he embarrassed himself, but the journalists in attendance at the party made sure he would hear about it, even if it had to be secondhand. He was nowhere to be seen, although he was obviously in the apartment while Hannibal and Abigail were away, evidenced by the organized bookshelves and the polished dishes, which were definitely not done while the rest of the family was home. It was probably some sort of apology for his behavior. 

Will and Hannibal still weren’t speaking, which completely solidified the degree to which Abigail’s plan had failed. But she was known for her resilience, and even if her first attempt failed, she would try, try again. Settling into her desk chair, she started searching through her various papers until she came back across a familiar list. Of course, at the top still sat her first choice, but among the discarded options sat a few more options. Among these options, sat promising the idea of an accidental blind date.

Abigail decided that this would be the next way she would enact her plan. She could ask each one of the men to have a nice lunch with her at the same place and time, proceed to not show up, and watch as they would be forced to spend time together, apologize for their respective shortcomings, and finally address their own emotions. They would then fall madly in love, giving Abigail a break from the stress of walking on the eggshells all day. What a relaxing thought. 

When trying to determine a location, she made sure to steer clear of a restaurant with a bar, even if she knew Hannibal would never allow Will to get as drunk as he was at the party. Instead, she spent a few minutes searching the web on her laptop before opting for a small, outdoor bistro, complete with plants lining the walls, lights hanging over the tables, and a coffee shop across the street, at a perfect distance for Abigail to spy on the two. She decided that Saturday was the perfect opportunity since neither she nor Hannibal would be stuck at work, but Hannibal would most likely be at the university all morning, and therefore wouldn’t see Will getting ready. Abigail could spend the morning out with friends, and promise to meet them each at the restaurant respectively, before taking a detour and leaving them to (hopefully) reconcile with each other. A perfect plan. Abigail mentally applauded herself for thinking of it alone.

It was Friday when she proposed the idea to Will first. He had been hard to track down, but when she took a shorter route back from school, she was able to catch him before he left the apartment. Opening the door, she almost bumped into him, but managed to grab his arm, even if he was still avoiding eye contact.

“Will! It’s good to finally see you,” Abigail said, as cheerily as she could. He would probably be able to see right through it with his fancy profiler skills, but even then, he’d be able to tell she wanted to be positive for him.

“Uhm, Abigail, you- yes, you too,” came Will’s reply, brief and quiet as if his voice was avoiding her.

“I was wondering if you would want to join me for lunch tomorrow. You know, catch up and stuff,” she asked, hope dancing in her voice.

“It’s been what, two weeks since we last saw each other? I doubt that we need to do any catching up,” Will countered.

“Well, you see, I really just want to spend time with you, and I feel like you think it’s your fault for what happened, and it wasn’t and you’ve been avoiding us and I miss you,” she was playing the sympathy card at this point, but it didn’t matter, and she was willing to push it farther. She gave him the most dramatic eyes she could and said quietly, “I miss you being my dad.”

This must have been what sent him over the edge, because he finally managed to look into her eyes and nod, followed by a slow sigh. “Yeah. I’ll-I’ll meet you for lunch. That sounds great.” Instead of continuing to make his way out the door he sat down his keys in the bowl on the table and turned to head back into the kitchen. “Do you, maybe want anything to drink?” he asked furtively, looking at Abigail still standing in the entranceway. She made her way over and said with a smile, “I’ll have a coffee,”

While Will busied himself with french presses, creamers, spices, and milk, Abigail almost felt bad for not planning to show up to their meeting, but having him talk to Hannibal would be good in the long run, and he needed it. Despite this, she could still use this time to talk with him, she thought before striking up a conversation right there in the kitchen, the afternoon sunlight reflecting the golden glow off of the cups on the counter.

They spoke for what seemed like days, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours spent lounging on upholstered chairs and gorging on decadent chocolates found in the back of the pantry. Will glanced at his watch and released a long breath. “As much as I enjoyed this, Hannibal will be home soon, and even if I’ve faced you, I’m not sure I can do the same with him quite yet.” Abigail understood his sentiment and hoped that her plan could help with that issue. She followed suit when he stood up, exchanged a date and time for the lunch date, and watched as he retreated into the comfort and safety of the study.

It was at dinner that Abigail proposed the idea to Hannibal. It was no doubt more of a strange idea to him, considering that they often ate meals together, just as they were now.

“Would you be interested in trying a new restaurant I found? It's gorgeous and I think you’ll like the food,” she queried.

Over his plate of veal, Hannibal let a wry smile spread along his face. “I don’t see why we can’t eat here. I prefer eating food I cook for myself anyway. Few restaurants live up to my standards.”

This was exactly the situation she was afraid of. “Please? I want to try it and I don’t want to go alone. I think it would be good for you to try,” Instead of playing the sympathy card as she did with Will, she devolved into simple begging, but Hannibal liked to appease her and ended the conversation with a nod of his head and another bite taken of his dinner. Perfect.

Now that all parties were informed of her plan, it was time to set it into motion. On Saturday morning, she went quickly out the door to meet friends for breakfast. She called Hannibal to ensure he was at the university on her walk over. He picked up on the third ring.

“Hello, Abigail. You don’t usually tend to call while I’m at work, may I ask why you chose to this time?”

“I just wanted to remind you about lunch today,” Abigail replied.

Hannibal was skeptical when he said, “I’ve been informed of lunch and I fully intend to be there. But for future reference, you needn’t call,”

His voice was calm and kind, but Abigail knew he was suspicious of her. Hopefully, he wouldn’t flake out and her plan could be realized. After spending the next ten minutes turning over possible scenarios in her head about the date, a friend called her over to their table and she allowed herself not to think of it for a while. 

It was eleven when she broke away from her friends. She took the bus over to her designated coffee shop and ordered a latte and a cannoli, before finding a seat closest to the window with the best view of the outdoor dining patio across the street. She had previously made reservations so she would know where they were sitting, a two-person table with an umbrella and a small red marker, designating it as reserved. It was empty, but she still put on a pair of dark sunglasses to hide her identity, if only for dramatic effect. A real 007. 

Her coffee was nearly gone by the time someone sat down at the table, and of course, it was Hannibal. She should have known Will would show up late, but a part of her wanted him to be there first because she knew he would try to leave as soon as he saw Hannibal. There was no way of knowing when or how he would react, so she elected to slump back in her chair and watch her design play out.

\---

Will clambered out the door, jacket hanging half off his shoulders and his shoes beginning to come untied. As always, he was running late, but he was intent on showing up in time for Abigail. Of course, they had to live in a fancy building, courtesy of Hannibal, so Will had to make awkward and short-lived eye contact with the elevator operator on his way to the lobby. He thought of his messy, curly hair, his neglected stubble, and the rumpled flannel he had most likely bought at some Bass Pro Shop or Walmart back in Virginia. He stuck out like a sore thumb here and was afraid that he would disappoint Abigail. He had Googled the address she had given him, and it was a fairly casual establishment, but he was bordering on homeless with his current look. He had never worried about what the public thought of him and never was one for fashion, but he was starting to regret that choice as he stepped onto the city bus and rode downtown. Hannibal must be such a better father to Abigail, with his three-piece suits and stable job. He didn’t like to think of it, but while he was locking himself away in embarrassment, Hannibal was probably sharing lavish dinners and showing Abigail the sights of the city. Maybe today would be an opportunity to earn some of her respect.

When Will reached his stop, his steps were tentative and smooth. If he wanted any dignity, he would have to earn it himself. He smoothed his jacket and combed back his hair with his fingers. After a deep breath, he wrapped his hand around the handle of the door and stepped in with as much self-esteem as he could muster up. The man at the host’s stand pointed him to where he should go, a small table with an umbrella. Underneath that umbrella sat Hannibal Lecter.  _ Of-fucking-course.  _

He should have known. It was Abigail’s plan all along. Force them to talk and reconcile. He was about to turn around and leave, but it was just then that Hanibal looked up and caught his eye. Great. 

“Oh, Will, I didn’t expect to see you here. Although I doubt that you’re here of your own accord,” He was loud enough to be heard over the chatter of the restaurant patrons, but his voice was only meant for Will. Will’s feet felt like they were glued to the floor, but he eventually was able to sit down across from Hannibal.

“I was told I would be eating lunch with Abigail,” he said, eyes looking at the patterns of grain on the table rather than Hannibal.

“So was I,” replied Hannibal, a slight chuckle escaping from his lips as he spoke. Will didn’t find it funny.

“So this means she set us up,” Will said dully. “But why?”

“I think she wants us to be better at communication. Both you and I have failed as her guardians,”

“I think you failed her when you cut off her ear and faked her death,”

Hannibal did not take kindly to that statement but still spoke with calm and composure.

“I was thinking more about our mutual lack of cooperation and how that’s affected Abigail’s stress levels,”

That made Will’s face burn in embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry,”

“If you really are sorry, do you promise to do what’s best for Abigail?”

Will nodded slowly.

It was then that the waiter decided to arrive, giving Will a much-needed break from Hannibal’s piercing stare and his lecture.

Hannibal ordered for both of them, which made Will a bit mad before he realized that he couldn’t pronounce anything on the menu if he was to order for himself. When the waiter left, Will took it upon himself to move the conversation forward.

“What exactly does doing what’s best for Abigail imply?” he asked. 

“Having a normal family structure is important. She deserves to live in an environment where home is a haven, and that is currently not the case,”

“So you want me to be more sociable with you two,”

“Well yes,” Hannibal looked at his hands, “And I need to be home more, I’ve been spending too much time at work,”

Will had a brilliant idea. “I used to be a professor too, you know. I studied more biology than psychiatry, but it’s close enough,”

“What are you asking, Will?”

“I could, um, help you grade papers or make your lesson plans? I’m also pretty good with PowerPoint, but I’m not sure if fancy Italian professors use PowerPoint,”

“I’ve never been able to get it to work, but I’d love to try with some help,”

When a bottle of wine was delivered to the table, the mood was lightened. 

“Day drinking are we?” Will joked as Hannibal poured two glasses.

“I think there’s an opportunity for a good wine at every meal, but don’t expect me to let you have your two fingers of whiskey with breakfast,” he said as a smile spread across his face.

This time, Will responded in kind.

They chatted for about twenty minutes while waiting for their lunch. Eventually, Will asked, “What’ll we do with Abigail when we get home?”

Through a half-smile, Hannibal snickered, “I think we should ignore it and pretend as if we’ve decided to become civil of our own accord,”

As Will grinned in turn with Hannibal, he let his gaze focus on the lines around his eyes, his striking cheekbones, the hair falling into his face, almost-blonde if not for the streaks of grey. His eyes wandered over the dazzling man before him, before finally settling on his lips. He could feel Hannibal’s eyes on him, and for once he didn’t feel ashamed for his staring, but rather confident. He lifted his eyes to meet Hannibal’s, ran his teeth over his bottom lip, and…

**_CRASH!_ **

Immediately, Will and Hannibal stood from their seats and moved to see where the noise had come from, abandoning their wine and their conversation. Once they were standing on the sidewalk, they could see a wreck in the middle of the street outside the restaurant. A small car had smashed into a public bus, no doubt a product of the winding streets of the city. 

By now, many people were standing on sidewalks, while a few were helping at the wreckage. Everyone seemed to escape the bus fine, but the woman helping whoever was in the car was in a state of panic.

“Doctor!” she called. “Please, is anyone a doctor?”

Hannibal shot a glance at Will and ran to the crash with a raised hand.

“Ma’am, I was a surgeon, can I help?”

Will considered calling an ambulance, but it seemed that multiple people were already doing so. Instead, he just stood and tried to watch Hannibal work, although there wasn’t much to see considering his torso was halfway inside the vehicle. As the ambulance pulled up, Will turned to see none other than Abigail herself, standing with a look of great concern covering her features.

“Abigail?” he asked. 

She turned quickly and immediately turned red. “Oh, hi, fancy seeing you here,”

“Yeah, real coincidence, where were you?”

She made a small nod towards a coffee shop down the road and Will felt like a mother reprimanding a young child. 

“Jesus Christ Abigail, where you  _ watching  _ us?”

It seemed as if she was too embarrassed to speak at this point, only grimacing and looking back at Will.

As the ambulance carried the injured driver away, Will let out a sound that was something of a sigh, laugh, and a sob all in one and put his head in his hands.

\---

It was late that night when Hannibal returned home, and Abigail was already asleep in her room, but Will was still teetering on the edge of consciousness, laying across a plush couch, attempting to read one of Hannibal’s giant psychiatry textbooks.

The door opened with a soft click, and Will knew who it was, but he was too tired to get up, so he just waited for Hannibal to find him. It didn’t take long, and soon he was standing above the couch while Will watched him with half-open eyes.

“How is he?” Will asked.

“He’ll live. They said if he hadn’t had immediate care, he could’ve suffered fatal blood loss,” 

Will yawned. “Why were you there all night? Last I checked they don’t just let any doctor into the operating room,”

Hannibal had a kind smile across his face when he responded, “That’s right, but they do let anyone into the waiting room,”

“Ah,” Will nodded. “I didn’t know you cared that much about strangers. Maybe it was the whole cannibalism thing, but you never struck me as a very empathetic guy,”

“You have enough empathy for the both of us, Will,” Hannibal countered. “But that man was never rude, and he didn’t deserve to die,”

Will nodded and let out a small hum of agreement, his eyes closed.

“Are you going to bed?” asked Hannibal.

“No, I think I’ll just stay here,”

Hannibal chucked at this but left Will alone in the sitting room anyway. They didn’t do anything that night, but Will wasn’t upset, considering he probably would’ve fallen asleep halfway through if they had. His biggest grievance with the night was the back pain he had the next morning after a night spent on the couch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading chapter 2! I just finished the book I was reading for class, so I should have more time to write over winter break. As always, let me know if you liked it, and I'm always open to criticism.


	3. Forced Proximity Can Induce Fits of Irrationality

By the time about a week had passed, the Fell household was running as smoothly as ever. Will and Hannibal could be found making dinner, grading essays, or even cleaning up around the house without a lick of turmoil. Abigail could bring over friends without worry, and her fathers were perfect hosts. It seemed that her plan had worked perfectly, save for one not-so-small detail. 

Despite their cooperation and civility, Will and Hannibal still displayed a distinct lack of romantic overtures. Far too little, in Abigail’s opinion. Not that the platonic politeness was unappreciated, but it just wasn’t what Abigail was going for when she set up the whole blind-date-but-you-already-know-slash-hate-your-date-and-you’re-forced-to-communicate-like-adults situation. She also did not mean for it to be interrupted, nor for her to be discovered as the instigator and a spy. She had yet to address  _ that  _ situation, as it would prove far too embarrassing for her liking. But just because she wouldn’t admit it, didn’t mean she still wasn’t plotting ideas for how to at least  _ encourage _ some sort of starry-eyed, soppy, romantic movie nonsense from the two men.

It took many hours of brainstorming and deliberation before she constructed her next attempt. The root of the last issues lay in the fact that they both took place in public. Other people caused pandemonium, and to avoid that, the next step would be private.

The last two were also purely lovey-dovey and romantic, and they obviously weren’t working. That meant only one thing… a venture into the physical.

Yes, as much as Abigail was very deeply disturbed by the mere thought of any sexual contact taking place in her home, it seemed to be the final frontier that could end this madness.

The most necessary next phase would have to include some kind of small space, far, far away from Abigail. A quick and easy solution that would leave the two _very_ alone, and they couldn't even be mad at Abigail for spying, because she had no interest. Perfect.

It was that evening when she decided where her next scheme would take place. The whole family was working in the kitchen on some fancy steak dinner that Will and Abigail couldn’t pronounce. Abigail was tasked with mincing vegetables, on the other side of the kitchen from Will and Hannibal, who were standing next to each other at the range. When she had to step into the walk-in pantry to retrieve some kind of herb, she was struck with inspiration. The room was a decent size, large enough for two grown men, but with the spices and ingredients lining the walls, it could prove to be a tight fit. There was a small lock on the door, which confused Abigail, but she assumed it was some kind of rich person thing to keep the hired help away from the food. Just pretentious enough for Hannibal. Hopefully, he would enjoy it just as much when he was trapped inside.

Abigail had to lay in wait for an opportunity to strike. Will and Hannibal needed to both be in the pantry at the same time, which proved to be more difficult than expected. On multiple occasions, one could be found inside without the other, or they would just send Abigail in instead of them. 

After about a week and a half of trying, Abigail was losing hope and eventually decided that she would need to be a little sneaky to enact her plan. During breakfast, she was the first one served and asked Hannibal to fetch some syrup while he was up. Once he disappeared out of the dining room, Will walked in with perfect timing, still bleary-eyed and a little dazed from sleep to the point where he wasn’t too worried about things making sense.

Throwing on a charming smile and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper, she asked, “Will, can you do me a favor?”

Will only grunted and rubbed his eyes in response.

Abigail saw this as a perfect chance. “You can’t tell Hannibal about this, but I really want sprinkles on my waffle,”

Will was obviously confused. “I don’t see what that has to do with me?”

“I need you to get them from the pantry because if he sees me he’ll know, and he lets you do whatever you want.”

“First off, no he doesn’t, and second, I doubt he’d even be willing to live under the same roof as a box of sprinkles.”

“Please, Will? Just check. I haven’t had sprinkles since before I was living with Hannibal.”

A normal, coffee-fueled Will would have no problem deconstructing her argument, but this Will was not that. He sighed, long and tired, before slowly roaming away to the kitchen. Step one complete.

She stalked a few feet behind Will, always hiding behind a wall or cabinet, and keeping her sock-footed steps silent across the tile floor. Once he stepped inside the pantry, it was her time to shine. She heard a few mumbled words between the two before pouncing on the door and turning the lock. She couldn’t hear anything going on inside, which was probably for the best. She theatrically dusted her hands off and walked away with a smile on her face, content to finish her breakfast in peace and relaxation.

\---

Meanwhile, Will was having a borderline shit-fit in the pantry.

“Again! Are you kidding me?” He was tugging at the door as if it would open only after it was pulled five hundred times.

Hannibal was level headed (as always), leaning against a wall of different jams, jellies, and pickled vegetables, all handpacked in small glass mason jars. “I assume what we accomplished on our date was not enough for Abigail.”

“ _ Date?  _ We were not on a date. I didn’t even want to go. And anyway, what could she possibly want that we haven’t got now? We speak to each other, we act civil, God, we even send emails to your clueless students together!”

Will was still yanking the door handle as he said this, causing Hannibal to take a half-stride over to gently pull Will’s hand away. If Hannibal’s hand spent a little too long before dropping Will’s, or a deep red blush began to spread across Will’s face, no one mentioned it. 

Hannibal slid his hands into his pockets as he clarified, “I think that our current dynamic is simply a side effect and that there may have been a different goal in mind.”

Will did not want to hear it. “What is that even supposed to mean?” he fumed. “Actually, don’t answer that. Just stop talking.”

Hannibal didn’t push it but left Will to sit in his space on the floor as he perused his collection of exotic Himalayan salts. It didn’t take long for Will to break the tense silence.

“Do you have a watch?”

“Unfortunately not,”

Will groaned and dropped his head into his hands. This was going to be a long morning. As he continued to stare blankly at the door, he wondered how long it would be before Abigail would let them out. Could they yell loud enough to get her attention? She’d probably ignore them anyway. Hannibal didn’t have work that day, so there was no necessity for them to leave after breakfast, and since the pantry was filled with food, Will wasn’t sure they’d be let out anytime in the near future. 

Despite this, there was no better option than simply waiting it out, and Will began to count the number of pasta jars adorning the walls. He never looked to his side, but he could still see Hannibal in his peripheral vision, slowly lowering himself down next to him. He stared at the wall as if it were a painting in a gallery. 

They sat there for an amount of time, although neither knew how long. After an internal debate with himself, he turned and spoke to the man at his side.

“When you were talking earlier, you said that Abigail wanted something other than friendship for us. I know I cut you off the first time, but what did you mean?”

An almost imperceptible smile spread across Hannibal’s face as he said, “I think Abigail may be trying to instigate a romantic relationship between us.”

This shocked Will more than anything. Of course, Hannibal was attractive, but Will had never imagined a romantic relationship with him. (or never allowed himself to) He thought back to their shared lunch, and the way he had focused on Hannibal’s lips. Even back during their therapy sessions in Baltimore, Hannibal’s voice was deep and smooth, and if Will wanted to hear it as he fell asleep, that was no one’s business. 

Of course, until now.

As Will took another glance at Hannibal, he was hit with a very jarring realization. He  _ wanted  _ that romantic relationship. It was unexpected and far beyond any sense of reason and rationality, but still, as he and Hannibal sat shoulder-to-shoulder in a cramped Italian pantry, it was the only thing that seemed to matter. He studied Hannibal’s side profile, bold and sharp, much like the man who wore it. Hannibal was everything Will wasn’t, put-together, charming, respected, but maybe that was what drew Will in. A messy, socially awkward, bundle of nerves falling for the elegant socialite. How cliche. But Will liked cliches, especially when they looked as good as Hannibal.

Instead of sharing this new development with Hannibal, Will let out a very dignified grunt of acknowledgment. 

It was many minutes before Hannibal spoke, just above a whisper. “You know Will, she may be right.”

“Right about what?” asked Will.

“Perhaps we could pursue a romantic relationship.”

“I- seriously?”

“Of course, if you are uncomfortable-”

Will shook his head, now face to face with Hannibal. “No, no, no, not that,”

Hannibal just kept looking at him, head tilting as if expecting an answer. Will wondered how Hannibal managed to stay so calm, especially considering the way Will was panicking internally.

“I-I just…” He wasn’t sure how to finish his sentence, so he didn’t. His heart was racing in his chest as he moved his hands to rest on Hannibal’s shoulders, making some very rare eye contact. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and titled his head to the side. He slowly leaned in closer and closer, until….

“Hannibal!”

The door slammed open as Will pulled away from Hannibal at light speed, turning to look at the very angry Abigail standing in the doorway. She didn’t wait for Hannibal to respond, just continued to berate him. 

“What did you serve for dinner the other night? Or rather,  _ who _ ?”

Hannibal chuckled, “Oh, well, Abigail-”

“No! Don’t pull that with me! Guess who was just at the door?  _ La Polizia. _ Do you know what that means? You killed somebody and they’re on your trail.”

“I’m quite aware of my own murder record, Abigail.”

“Not the time for sarcasm.”

Will finally piped up when he asked, “Who did you even kill, and when? I thought you were too busy with teaching?”

“Now that you’re helping me with work, I had time to take care of a particularly discourteous janitor.”

“So, what does this mean, now that they’re onto us?” Abigail still looked to Hannibal for authority, despite her disappointment in him.

“I assume we’ll have to leave the country. Usually, I would stay longer, but I value your safety.”

Will spoke through a sardonic sigh as he said, “Better get packing,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry if this chapter was a little short, I really wanted to get it out in a timely manner. It's currently about 1 am, and I wrote the majority of this chapter tonight, so ignore my many mistakes lol. As always, let me know if you liked it or have any criticism.


	4. Road Trips are Better When Spent Together

Will was packing his last t-shirt into his suitcase when Hannibal walked in. He was dressed now in a pair of slacks and a soft-looking wool sweater, a stark contrast to his usual three-piece suits. Will started talking before he started thinking, partially because of how shocked he was.

“Why are you wearing that?” he asked, before internally wincing at the brashness of his tone. But Hannibal took it in stride, cracking an amused smile. “Even I like to be comfortable sometimes, Will. Especially for long car rides, it is imperative that the driver is relaxed.”

“What long car ride?” Will asked. “I thought we’d fly.”

Hannibal stepped into Will’s bedroom now, sliding his hands into his pockets. “As much as a flight would be more efficient, I’m afraid that our current situation with the law would make it unsafe. I’m sorry if there aren’t any first-class seats.”

Will chuckled a little at that. “I always got the impression that you didn’t care too much about the law.”

“I hate to admit it, but I’ve recently become a bit more aware of the authorities.”

“Yeah?”

Hannibal smirked a bit as he said, “Well now that I have a family, I can’t be so reckless.”

Will just stood there, staring at Hannibal from the other side of the bed. He couldn’t bring himself to speak or move and had to watch as Hannibal raised his eyebrows a little and walked out of the room and down the hall.

Will was unable to stop Hannibal’s words from playing over and over in his head like a broken record. 

_ “Well now that I have a family, I can’t be so reckless.” _

Were they a family? Sometimes Abigail referred to him like an adopted father, and they all acted like they were family in public, but that was just that. Acting. Except it was Hannibal speaking this time, and the setting was far from the public. Hannibal always meant something when he spoke, and the deliberate intimacy of his delivery was not lost on Will. Did he  _ want  _ Will to think of them as a family? Was this some kind of fucked up manipulation tactic? It wasn’t out of character for Hannibal.

But despite everything telling him otherwise, Will couldn’t help but think that maybe they  _ were  _ a family. A fucked-up family, bonded by blood and gore and horror, but a family nonetheless. There wasn’t anybody like them, nobody who could really stomach what happened behind the closed doors of their little world. That thought was endearing to Will, it reminded him of his rescue dogs back in Virginia, all living with the other strays, Will included. Except Will wasn’t a stray anymore, he realized. He hadn’t felt alone since he stopped isolating himself. In his little family, he found a pack, and it felt good. 

He still wasn’t sure what Hannibal’s motivations were. He was also hyper-aware of what he had done about an hour before and didn’t want to face it. He never really initiated any actual kissing, and their lips never touched, so it didn’t count. And it most definitely did  _ not _ need to be brought up on an excruciatingly long car ride to wherever Hannibal was planning on taking them. Abigail had a habit of rambling about any TV show she’d watched or any book she’d read recently, and Will desperately hoped he could get her to give a lecture about  _ Grey’s Anatomy  _ again, so he could avoid any conversation with Hannibal. 

Zipping up his bag, he let out a long sigh before stepping into the sitting room, where a luggage cart was already laden with Hannibal’s fancy leather suitcases and Abigail’s floral duffel bags. Abigail came scampering in then, holding a pile of clothes that looked larger than her arms should be able to hold. She smiled at Will and proceeded to dump the pile into his hands. It was very heavy, affirming Will’s suspicions. 

“Sorry I didn’t get them back sooner, it took forever to even find them all,” she said as if Will had any idea of what she was talking about. He only sent back a look that he hoped portrayed his confusion.

“They’re your shirts,” Abigail said slowly.

It took Will a moment to process. “Oh my God they are!” he laughed. “I had no idea where these were.”

He flipped through the assortment of flannel shirts in his arms and mentally counted the ones he saw.  _ Red with blue plaid, green with yellow stitching, orange, and red gingham...  _

He’d only noticed his disappearing shirts after he lost the first three. It seemed like every time he opened his wardrobe, there were fewer and fewer. Eventually, he’d just resorted to wearing dress shirts or t-shirts instead, like he was doing right now.

“Why do you have all my shirts?”

“They’re comfortable,” she said like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Plus, oversize is in.”

“Well, if you like them, just keep them,” Will offered. “I’ve already finished packing.”

Abigail shot him a lively grin as she took the pile back.

It was only after she had turned the corner that Will realized how paternal he felt.

Later, Will was lounging on the couch when Hannibal came to usher him and Abigail out to the car. According to the residents of the building, they were taking a quick family trip around Asia and would be back within two weeks. That gave them two weeks before anyone started asking questions. 

The car was sitting outside, a black Bentley similar to the one Hannibal drove in Baltimore. Neither of them had had a car in Florence since public transport and taxis were so easily available. Will was a little apprehensive, wondering what Hannibal did to get a hold of a car that quick. He knew it probably involved someone’s murder, so he didn’t ask. 

Once all the bags were loaded into the trunk, Hannibal took his place at the driver’s seat. Will sunk in next to him in the passenger. Abigail was already in the back, untangling her headphones after time spent in her pocket. This was Will’s chance. He turned to face Abigail.

“Hey, been watching any new shows recently?”

Abigail didn’t look up, just kept tapping at something on her phone as she mumbled, “Eh, not really.”

“Ok, um, what music are you listening to nowadays? I never hear you playing any CDs.”

“Nobody listens to CDs anymore. It's all on Spotify,” Abigail laughed.

Will was beginning to think this conversation wouldn’t be going anywhere. He was also acutely aware of his own age, considering he didn’t even know what a Spotify was. 

“Oh, and Will, to answer your question, I like Hozier a lot,” Abigail piped up from the backseat.

“Is that a band?”

Abigail just sighed and went back to doing whatever teenagers do, which apparently meant ignoring Will. They’d already started driving through the city and Will turned up the radio volume a bit too high in an attempt to ignore Hannibal. As a result, the cab was filled with the blasting chorus of a Taylor Swift song that always seemed to be on the radio. It was embarrassing but not nearly as embarrassing as it would be to talk about  _ feelings.  _

His moment of bubblegum-pop-induced bliss only lasted about a minute before Hannibal shook his head and twisted the dial to some kind of classical music.

“Hey, why’d you do that?” Will asked, incredulous.

“I wanted to listen to music,” Hannibal said simply.

“We already were.”

“You could hardly call that music.”

Will pointedly rolled his eyes, switching the station back. By the time the bridge was over, it was already back to classical. Will switched it back. Hannibal changed it. Will did the same. As did Hannibal.

When Will changed it the next time, he turned the volume to the max, and he could feel the bass rattling his seat. Hannibal tried to say something, but it couldn’t be heard over an incessant racket from the speakers. As soon as Hannibal tried to touch the dial, Abigail was up from her seat and proceeded to smack Hannibal’s hand away and hit the mute button.

“Clearly, you two don’t deserve the radio.”

Hannibal started, “I just wanted to-”

Abigail cut him off. “No. You’re just as bad, dude.”

She slunk back into her seat, and Will and Hannibal sat in dead silence, staring out the windshield in front of them. They were just now leaving the city, and according to the car’s dash, they’d be on the road for another 10 hours. Just peachy. 

It was only 2 pm, so Will couldn’t really use the sleep tactic, even if he wanted to. He could hear Abigail’s headphones through her ears in the front seat, and could only assume she was trying to drown them out. He didn’t have a phone, he’d never really needed it, but he was wishing for something to distract him. Hannibal had left his textbooks at home, so there wasn’t anything to read, either. He tried to go fishing in his mind, but the stream kept fading away into leather seats and Italian countryside. He wondered idly where they were even going.

“Paris,” Hannibal said as if he could hear Will’s thoughts. 

“Did I ask that out loud?”

“Apparently so.”

They still were both looking straight out at the road ahead, so they didn’t even look like they were speaking to each other, especially if one was to watch them from the back seat.

“Why Paris?” Will asked.

“I’ve always wanted to see it in the springtime.”

“Oh, that’s... lovely,” Will nodded. “Do we have new IDs?”

“They’re in my suitcase. Your new name is Mr. Raphael Martin. Mine is Dr. Oliver Martin. Abigail is Eloise Martin. You and I met in your hometown of Quebec a few years ago, where we fell in love and were married. We adopted our daughter shortly after. I plan to work at their university as well, since Abigail should be starting college soon, and I don’t want her to stray too far.”

“Using the marriage thing again?” Will couldn’t help but poke at Hannibal.

“It works well,” was his only response, carefully keeping his eyes on the road.

“Where is our apartment?” Will asked.

Hannibal hesitated. “I haven’t been to Paris since I was a young man, and on such short notice, I haven’t found a good one yet.”

“Does that mean we’ll stay in a hotel?”

“Yes. I have yet to book one though, so can you make a call to the Crillion?”

“The what?”  
Hannibal handed him a burner phone and gave him a phone number. “Ask for a three-bedroom for five nights,” he instructed. Will did as he was told. The woman on the phone was sweet and helped Will, even if she spoke with the thickest French accent he’d ever heard. The issue appeared when he asked about bedrooms.

She was kind as she said, “Well, we only have a two-bedroom, with the spring and all the tourists. Is that okay?”

Will considered pushing the microphone into his shoulder and asking Hannibal about it, but he decided it would be too much hassle. He could just sleep on the couch.

“Yes, that should be fine, thank you so much.”

He about fainted when he heard the price, but Hannibal wouldn’t let him complain. They sat in companionable silence for a while, listening to the wind whistling outside the windows. A little after the sunset on the rocky horizon, Will dozed off, his head leaned up against the door. He dreamed of Paris.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! School has been kicking my butt as of late. Working on the finale chapter as we speak. Leave kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


	5. Sharing a Bed Often Makes One Incredibly Impulsive

Will woke to having his shoulder shook and someone repeating his name. He was in the place between sleep and wake, and was honestly a bit delirious. His vision was blurry and his neck hurt from being pressed up against the window glass. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but it must have been long enough to warrant the two energy drinks sitting in the cupholder. Will was shocked that Hannibal would ever come near something that said  _ Rainbow Unicorn  _ on the can, but desperate times must call for desperate measures. 

Abigail was still poking at him as he groaned and stretched his arms, or at least tried to in the compact space provided by the passenger seat. Hannibal was missing, but that was easily explained by the fact that they were sitting in a convenience store parking lot. 

“Will, Will, wake up,” she was saying, rushed and a bit annoyed.

“What?” Will found himself asking, voice still muddy and slurred from sleep.

“Can you go inside and get Hannibal? He’s been in there for like 20 minutes.”

“Did you seriously wake me up to ask me that? Just go inside and get him so we can leave. And so  _ I  _ can get some rest.”

“Trust me, Will, the beauty sleep won’t fix it,” she laughed, and Will rubbed his eyes with one hand.

“I don’t see why you just can’t do it,” he said.

“‘Cause it’s, y’know, weird.”

“ _What?_ ” Abigail’s mind was far beyond Will’s comprehension.  
“Just this once,” she begged. “ _Please?_ ”

_ Teenagers,  _ Will thought ruefully, clicking his seatbelt open and stepping out into the cool spring air. His legs were still tight from being tucked into the seat all night, so his walk to the door was a well-needed one. Give thanks for small blessings.

A neon sign reading  _ Aperto 24/7  _ casted a red glow onto the sidewalk as he pulled open the glass door. A bell rang and a cashier turned to look at Will. He was a small man, about 60 or so, with a balding head and kind eyes. He smiled at Will, but Will only nodded back as he started strolling through the aisles, trying to pretend he wasn’t looking for anything in particular. It didn’t take him long to find Hannibal, though, mostly on account of the fact that they were the only ones in the place. 

Will walked up on him from behind, watching as Hannibal carefully observed the small selection of pastries the store had, all sat in a cheap glass cabinet. It was almost comical. Will stepped beside him, a small smirk on his face.

“You know, it’s just donuts. There’s nothing too high-quality about one of those eclairs.”

Hannibal shot him a look. “At least I  _ care  _ about the kind of thing I put in my body.”

This was Will’s time to strike. “Really? What about the drink in the car?”

Hannibal looked shocked, as if it wasn’t sitting right there in the cup holder for anyone to see. “We don’t speak about that.”

It took all Will had in him not to burst out laughing, but he managed to keep it in. He leaned in close to Hannibal. “If you ever piss me off, I’ll tell the FBI that they can follow a trail of energy drink receipts to hunt you down,” he whispered, grabbing what looked to be the most calorie-filled, artery-blocking, heart-attack-causing donut there. It was covered in icing and what looked like a mountain of sprinkles, and usually Hannibal would tell him to eat something better, but not today. Not with this leverage. If everything went this way, Paris would be a dream.

He sauntered off to find something else, and ended up with a cheap coffee and a chocolate bar that he couldn’t read the packaging on. He found Hannibal and brought him to the register, since Hannibal was the only one with any cash, as per the whole running-away-from-the-police-because-I-may-or-may-not-have-murdered-and-eaten-too-many-people situation. Will sat his things on the counter, and Hannibal had procured a banana nut muffin, an apple, a granola bar, and two more energy drinks, both in atrocious flavors. He did not look Will in the eye as he pulled out the cash. 

The man at the register smiled warmly at them, and spoke in very broken English, “Couple’s trip, eh?”

Will felt his face flush red, and quickly started shaking his head, although he wasn’t sure what to respond with. Calling them friends felt too simple, acquaintances too little, and partner too romantic, so Will settled for a straight up lie. “Uh, no, he’s my colleague, we’re headed to a psychiatry convention in Paris.” Of course, there was no convention in Paris, but the man didn’t know that. He just nodded along to what Will was saying, even if the slight tilt of Hannibal’s head told a different story. 

Will stood impatiently as Hannibal took a plastic bag from the shopkeeper and waited for change. He was out of the door as quickly as he could, determined to outrun his own embarrassment.

Hannibal was quick on his heels, and was soon rationing out the food from the bag. He was hesitant to give Will the donut, but obliged after seeing the shit-eating grin plastered on Will’s face. Abigail got the muffin, and Hannibal kept his energy drinks tucked in the driver’s seat.

It wasn’t until they were long gone from the store that Will realized they hadn’t even been wearing their rings.

\--

The building that Hannibal pulled up to did not look like a hotel. Will thought it was a museum at first, but the valet outside told him otherwise.

“Hannibal, is this our hotel?” he asked incredulously.

“Yes. Is there something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just… it seems like too much. You’ll waste all the cash.”

“Will,” Hannibal countered, looking him in the eye. “You needn’t worry about the cash.”

Will had no idea exactly how much was in Hannibal’s bank account, but he trusted Hannibal that it was probably too much for one person to ever even  _ think  _ about spending. 

Abigail seemed to have finished whatever it was she was doing, and started to round up the things strewn about the backseat. Will was hit square in the face with his jacket. “Rude,” he mumbled under his breath. Abigail just laughed.

The young man at the valet helped them load their bags onto carts, and they were promptly whisked away to wherever they’d be staying. 

The hotel lobby was  _ insane.  _ It looked like something out of a period piece about some ditzy princess falling for the richest prince in Europe. Just the thing Hannibal liked. Will and Abigail looked like a couple of awestruck tourists, twisting their heads to get a better view of the chandeliers. Will had to stop himself from pulling out his phone to take a picture.

Will was used to booking his own hotel rooms, so it was a bit strange to stand there while Hannibal filled out some expensive paperwork. At least Abigail was in the same boat, so they struck up a conversation.

“This looks like something out of a James Bond movie,” she whispered.

“Or some fancy murder mystery,” Will said.

They both looked at each other then, and couldn’t hold in the laughter. They probably looked like the least presentable people there, but they didn’t care at all.

\--

The door into their room was heavy. In all honesty, it was more of a small apartment than a room. There was a main living room, a kitchen, a dining room, and two doors that undoubtedly lead to the bedrooms.

The two bedrooms.

Only two.

Hannibal seemed to process this just as Will remembered what he had done in the car. Hannibal strode across the floor, opening the doors on the edge of the room. He poked his head inside, checking if there was some extra hidden door somewhere. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. He turned back to face Will and Abigail.

“It seems like we have the wrong room. I’ll be back.”

Will caught his arm right as he was about to turn the knob on the door. “No,” Will sighed. “They said they were busy on the phone. That they only had a two-bedroom, and I didn’t want to complicate things by having to pick a whole new hotel.”

Hannibal gave him a strange look, and Will made sure to add, “The couch looks fine, I can just sleep there.”

“Surely not,” Hannibal said disbelievingly. “Sleeping on a couch in a place like this would just be a waste.”

“Honestly, I’ll just do it. That looks like the most comfortable couch I’ve ever seen.”

“Will, you can’t be ser-”

Abigail cut them off with a sharp cough, ending a staring contest that Will didn’t even realize they were having. “It’s almost noon,” she shared, showing off the watch on her wrist. It looked like something Hannibal must have bought her. “Want to get some authentic French cuisine?”

\--

The place was nearly packed, but Hannibal spoke quietly to the host and got them a table within 10 minutes. Will wondered what exactly Hannibal had done the last time he was in Paris, especially if it got him treated like  _ that.  _

In Will’s opinion, it was far too early for a four-course meal, but Hannibal must have thought otherwise. Will wasn’t sure what half of it was, considering the fact that Hannibal had ordered for them in perfect French. 

At least he could recognize the cheese (not by name of course) and what he sorely hoped was calamari. He was at least glad that there was no escargot, but rather some kind of steak in a stew. It was good. By the time the creme brulee came around, his head hurt from the incessant clamor of French surrounding him on all sides, none of it he could understand.

Hannibal led them out of the restaurant, but instead of heading back to the hotel, he started walking in the opposite direction.

“Where are you going?” Will asked, attempting to keep pace with him.

“I thought it may be beneficial to visit a museum,” Hannibal said briskly.

Abigail was dragging her feet behind them. “A  _ museum? _ ”

“I’ve found that an art history education is indispensable in the life of any young academic.”

“Yeah, well I’m not a  _ ‘young academic’, _ ” she groused.

“And neither am I,” Will piped up. “I don’t know jack shit about art, and I’m doing fine.”

Hannibal stopped, looking him directly in the eyes. “That’s debatable.”

Will thought he heard Abigail snickering behind them.

\--

The Louvre was incredibly boring. Will followed Hannibal around for what must have been upwards of three hours, watching as he lectured Abigail about whatever painting or sculpture he thought important. Every few minutes, Abigail would shoot Will a pleading look over her shoulder, but he couldn’t do more than just shrug. 

It got to a point where Will was following them around like a zombie, and he’d already started fishing in his mind. He was almost done reeling in a great trout when he felt Abigail shake his shoulder. 

She looked absolutely elated. “Will! Will, we can  _ leave! _ ” She gripped him by the bicep and started dragging him out the door, Hannibal following behind them.

Will didn’t expect it to be dark when they left, but it was, and the city was lit by more lights than Will could count. The air was cool and a crisp wind caught his cheek, whipping his hair away from his face. He felt a chill through his thin coat.

Hannibal didn’t seem affected by it when he stepped up next to Will. Will was just getting excited about going back to the hotel when Hannibal spoke again. “I’ve one more surprise before we retire,” he informed them, deliberately ignoring Abigail’s groaning. 

They were dragged through the city, and it took Will an embarrassingly long time to realize where they were going.

The Eiffel Tower was gorgeous at night. The light glinted off the water, and a warm glow was cast onto the ground where they stood. Abigail ran off to get some better pictures on her phone, but Hannibal and Will made sure she was still visible. Can’t trust anyone these days.

Hannibal leaned closer to Will as he spoke. “The tower was actually built as an entranceway to the World’s Fair. I still like to think of it as an entrance to the city, something you have to see before you can say you’ve really experienced Paris.”

“And you think I need to experience Paris?”

“We all do,” Hannibal shrugged. “Although it’s always been a dream of mine to show you the city.”

“Really?” Will asked, turning to look at Hannibal’s side profile. It seemed almost romantic. 

Almost.

Hannibal let loose a small smile. “I think that Paris is a city of beauty, and I think that a beautiful person should be in a beautiful city.”

_ Oh Shit.  _

Will’s brain was on the verge of short-circuiting inside his skull after that comment.  _ Beautiful?  _ That was the last thing he expected. 

Or was it? His recent time with Hannibal was increasing in tension, and his usual strategy of ignoring his problems wouldn’t work in this scenario. He would have to face  _ whatever  _ this was with Hannibal at some point, no matter how much he tried to delay it. It seemed like the scariest thing in the world. Scarier than knowing the man next to him had killed and eaten countless people throughout Europe and the east coast. Will thought that said a lot about his personality.

His panic was quickly interrupted by another gust of wind, making him shiver again in the cold night. 

“You need a better coat,” Hannibal observed.

“What was fine for Florence is a different story in Paris.”

Hannibal said nothing, just took off his wool coat and draped it around Will’s shoulders. Will looked up at him in shock, but Hannibal was back to staring at the tower. 

Abigail bounded up to them, showing off the photos she took, talking about how great they would look on Pinterest. Will let a yawn escape his lips and let Hannibal guide them all back to the hotel. He kept the coat on. 

\--

Will hoped he would escape the bedroom incident without dissent, but he was wrong. There was a moment of bliss where he thought he was free, but as soon as Abigail was shut in her room, Hannibal pounced on him.

“Surely you can’t be serious about staying on the couch,” he said, raising his eyebrows at Will. 

“I don’t see why I wouldn't be.”

“It’s a waste, Will. You have the opportunity for one of the nicest beds in Paris, and you don’t even take it.”

“You didn’t consult me before you chose the hotel, so I’m not sure why you’re guilt-tripping me about it.”

Hannibal was silent, rubbing a hand over his face. His shoulders rose and fell with the force of a sigh. “I just wanted to surprise you,” he said quietly. “I wanted to give you the best the city had to offer.”

That made Will’s heart melt a little bit in his chest. He didn’t expect it, and it shocked him a bit. Maybe that’s what made him a bit irrational when he said: “I won’t sleep on the couch tonight. And if the bed is as magnificent as you say it is, I may be inclined to stay.”

Hannibal looked back at Will with a glint in his eyes, reminiscent of a child who was just told he could have extra dessert. He smiled at Will, and turned to walk through the door. 

Will’s luggage was already sitting in the corner of the room on a small bench, and he didn’t have to think too hard to know why it was there. Hannibal was in the en suite bathroom, so Will took the opportunity to change, if only into an old t-shirt and sweatpants. He felt out of place in a room like this, something so ornate and fanciful. He thought it was a lot like his relationship with Hannibal. Will was messy, unstable, and mildly neurotic. Hannibal was poised, polite, and put-together. Maybe that’s why they worked so well. They could pick up on each other’s differences, even though they had so much in common. They worked like a well-oiled machine.

It was getting harder and harder to ignore the tension between them as Will threw the covers over his shoulder, feeling the bed dip behind his back. He flipped over to look at the ceiling and caught a glimpse of Hannibal in his peripheral. Was he wearing a  _ button-down _ ? If Will ever thought Hannibal had any sanity left, it was surely gone by now. 

Hannibal was reading an old paperback in a language Will couldn’t recognize. He didn’t even realize he was staring until Hannibal looked over at him. Will was propped up on his elbow, obviously surveying the other man. How  _ embarrassing.  _

“If the light is keeping you awake, Will, I can turn it off.”

“No, it’s fine.” Will didn’t feel like admitting that he would have trouble falling asleep even if the light was off. This was not the time for a therapy appointment. 

“Nonsense,” Hannibal said, setting down his book and flipping the switch on the lamp. The room was partially illuminated by the city, hidden behind a set of half-open curtains. It was just bright enough to see Hannibal lie down. Facing Will. 

Will instinctively flipped into his other side, but he could still feel Hannibal’s eyes on his back. As expected, he was having trouble sleeping, and lay there in the dark for at least an hour, evidenced by the clock on the nightstand. Hannibal must have been asleep by then, so Will decided to just try and wait it out, even if that meant staring at the wall all night. At least it was a pretty wall. He waited for an hour.

Nothing. He waited for another hour.

Nothing.

He felt restless, and he needed to move. He assumed that since Hannibal was asleep, it wouldn’t be a big deal to lay on his other side, so he did. Nothing. 

He flipped back to his original position, before inevitably flipping his pillow. Then moving one leg out of the blanket. Then putting it back in. 

He tossed and turned for far too long before he resigned to the idea of pulling an all-nighter. He let out a long breath when he flopped down for the last time, planning to stare at the wall until the sun rose the next morning.

But he felt a pair of arms snake around his torso, and a head fit into his shoulder.

“It’s been scientifically proven that physical touch during the night can help one sleep sounder and for longer periods of time,” Hannibal said, voice warm in his ear. It was close, too. Far closer than it had ever been, and it was all very new, very quick.

It wasn’t like he could say he didn’t want this. He did, very much. And he could assume that Hannibal did too. Will thought about his reasons for his hesitation for a romantic relationship. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Hannibal, because of course he did. It wasn’t that he thought it would hurt Abigail, since they already functioned like a married couple. He didn’t quite understand why he was so desperately trying to avoid this, but he knew that he wanted it now. 

He didn’t say anything back to Hannibal, but just relaxed in his hold, bringing up his hands to intertwine them with Hannibal’s. They fell asleep like that, and Will noted that it was the quickest he’d fallen asleep in months.

\--

They had no wake-up call, but Abigail knocking on their door served purpose enough. By now, she must have noted the fact that there was no Will sleeping on the couch. They were only half awake when she asked them if they were ready for breakfast, and they barely had the brainpower to respond. Instead of just waiting for them to say something, she just opened the door, and it was good for her that they were only in a somewhat-compromising position. She looked them up and down before raising her eyebrows with a knowing smirk on her face. “Knew it.” 

She closed the door behind her and Will couldn’t help but start laughing, untangling his legs so he could face Hannibal.

“I guess her plan must have worked,” Will said, watching Hannibal’s face for any kind of change. Hannibal only looked confused. Instead of doing some explaining like a somewhat sane person, Will chose instead to grab Hannibal by the jaw and kiss him square on the mouth. How bold of him. A very unprecedented move on Will’s part.

He must have shocked Hannibal a bit, but by the time Abigail was back at their door, they were practically glued together.

“Gross,” she said as they broke apart, feigning a gag in her throat.

Will and Hannibal just laughed.

“ _ I  _ would still like breakfast,” Abigail proclaimed. “And I need you two to not be disgusting for two seconds while we go eat, ok? Please don’t get distracted while you’re getting ready.” She shut the door behind her, most likely in an attempt to stay as far away from them as possible.

“What do you think about breakfast?” Will asked.

“I think that it sounds like a lovely idea, although I wouldn’t mind a distraction or two.”

Will just leaned their foreheads together as he laughed.

He could get used to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omfg, thank you for finishing! I spent far too long on this fic and I thank you so much for all the lovely feedback! If you have any kind of prompt you'd like me to write, please let me know. I'm going to have much more free time now that this baby is complete, and I'd love to write more. Thanks again!


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